


too long alone

by hysteries



Series: beginning middle end (dimension 20 alphabet 2021) [1]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 01 Season 01: Fantasy High Freshman Year (Dimension 20), Campaign 01 Season 02: Fantasy High Sophomore Year (Dimension 20), F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hysteries/pseuds/hysteries
Summary: Sometimes, understanding can come when you least expect it.(Or, Fabian Seacaster meets Aelwyn Abernant all over again)
Relationships: Aelwyn Abernant/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Series: beginning middle end (dimension 20 alphabet 2021) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179170
Kudos: 13
Collections: Dimension 20 Alphabet 2021





	too long alone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dimension 20 Alphabet 2021 collection. My prompt was **alone** and the title was taken from _The Woodpile_ by Frightened Rabbit, which I strongly encourage you listen to! 
> 
> I know that Fabian and Aelwyn are a deeply unpopular couple in fandom, but I can't stop thinking about the parallels in their stories. Who they want to be, who their parents try to sculpt them into, and how much they fear vulnerability. Fabian running away from Captain James, Aelwyn running towards her mother, both at the cost of themselves. They love deeply but fall into patterns of self-destruction, self-love, and self-loathing. I know they finish season two saying that they would be deeply unhealthy together but I think that actually, they stand a chance of helping each other cope with their respective traumas. Whether that leads to a romance or a deep friendship, I don't know, but I think there's an undeniable intersection of their lives and stories that I find super compelling. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @nellgwyns for more rambles about them/all of d20! 
> 
> **TW** for grief, allusions to panic attacks and depression.

When he pulls up outside of Mordred Manor, the porch lights shine on a small figure huddled on the front steps.

Aelwyn Abernant.

Fabian would know her anywhere. He spent a year training himself to find her, searching for her in every dark corner and back alley he came across. At this point, it’s pure muscle memory. Even when he feels so numb and empty that he can barely breathe, he can spot her a mile away.

The Hangman purrs to a slow stop. He’s showing off, moving languidly across the ground in front of Aelwyn. Any other night and Fabian might do the same. But tonight, he gives his bike a soft pat on the handle. “That’s enough, Hangman.”

_No vrooms, Master? Not even one?_

Fabian shakes his head before he swings himself off. He’s a man on a mission, bypassing Aelwyn entirely to get onto the porch. He looks through the nearest window of the house and tries to guess who’s home. There’s no loud music or laughter. No bright lights or fast-moving shadows. He tastes something bitter at the back of his mouth.

“Adaine’s got therapy, Kristen’s on her crystal with Tracker, and Fig’s at Compass Points.” Aelwyn’s voice rings out, clipped and clear. “If you’re wondering why it’s so quiet.”

“They’re all busy?”

“For now, yes.”

Fabian, shoulders slumping, descends a step, which brings him into the light. Now that he can see her, he realizes she isn’t huddled so much as burrowed. Her body is coiled tightly around itself, arms laced around her knees. He sees a beam of light in front of her, a tiny rune that disappears into stars as he gets closer. She adjusts her posture, moving fluidly into a position he can only think of as prim.

“I’m sure they’ll be finished soon. The night is young.” She loops a finger through the air and the remainder of her magic flits around it.

“Oh. I’m not here for that kind of thing – not a party.”

When he’s with the Bad Kids, Fabian never feels slow. He’s quick – sometimes too quick, talking himself into trouble without a second thought. With Aelwyn, it’s different. His words come out staccato and stuttered, like his tongue is trying to slow himself down before he gets in too deep.

“You’re not? It’s a Friday night, isn’t it?”

“I killed my dad,” Fabian blurts out. As soon as he speaks that truth, he feels an immediate warmth seep back into his body after a day of numbness.

No one told him it would be like this. Feel like this. There weren’t any condolence cards or self-help books to say _Sorry you had to kill your Papa, but here’s what comes next_. As much as his mother tried and Cathilda soothed, neither one of them could understand. Fabian drove a sword through his father’s torso, and he was just supposed to move on from that.

A year ago, he’d been in the forest of the Nightmare King, too wrapped up in his own terror to make note of the date. But this year, it loomed over him. The first time that he saw a poster for junior prom, he’d run to the bathroom and stayed in the stall for half an hour until he could breathe again. He had the date marked on his calendar, a black dot that reminded him of his own eyepatch. And now that the day was here, he felt… empty. No anger, no guilt, no nothing. Just a hollowness that scraped his insides raw.

And so he came to Mordred, looking for laughter and light and his friends to tell him that it would all be okay.

“Two years ago,” he continues as though there hadn’t just been a long period of silence, as if Aelwyn wasn’t staring a hole through him. “I killed him two years ago. Today.”

He’s looking at her, and her face sharpens into an expression he doesn’t quite understand, and she nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“He asked me to.”

Aelwyn nods again. While Fabian stands, half-frozen, she moves to join him. She’s taller than most of his friends, but not as tall as him. When she straightens up, a step below him, the top of her head lands just under his nose.

Fabian takes another step down without thinking, closing some of the distance between them.

“I wish I’d killed mine. It should’ve been me. If I could take the burden away from Adaine,” _and from you_ , Fabian imagines her saying, “I would.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” he answers without thinking again. “I can’t – I don’t know how I did it.”

In some ways, Aelwyn and Adaine look the same. But there are differences anyone could spot up close. While Adaine’s got the icy blue eyes of an elven oracle, Aelwyn’s are somewhere between green and brown. Her gaze is hazel and frank as she studies him.

“You miss him,” she notes.

“Every day.” Humiliatingly, for the first time that day, he feels a sharp ball of pain in his throat, like he’s about to cry. “I don’t know who I am without him.”

“Me neither.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. The ache in his throat is getting more intense, and it’s all Fabian can do to hold it at bay. He’s not sure if Aelwyn notices – if that’s what inspires her to keep going – but she does.

“But I think you do know who you are.” She doesn’t look away from him, not for a second. “You’re just like Adaine. More yourself than anyone else out there. You don’t hide.”

“How do you know?” He asks before he can stop himself.

Her lips curve into a half-smile, soft around the edges. He’s never seen Aelwyn look like this before.

“It’s hard to miss.”

He wonders about that. Ever since they came back from the Nightmare King’s – Cassandra’s – Forest, Aelwyn’s been a fixture at Mordred. Reading in the breakfast nook, chipping in with helpful advice whenever the Bad Kids had a team meeting. He wonders if she’s been watching them. If she’s been watching him.

“He was —” The ball in his throat finally overtakes him, and Fabian has to choke back a sob. It’s embarrassing as hell. “I love him.”

“I know.”

“Without him —” He struggles for air, for breath, for anything but the wetness behind his eyes. “I’m alone.”

“I know,” Aelwyn repeats. The lines across her face are still soft, her mouth curved, and Fabian thinks she might actually be telling the truth. She doesn’t say, _no, of course you’re not, you’re surrounded by people who love you_. She doesn’t say, _your friends understand, they know what you’re going through_. And for whatever reason, he appreciates that.

He wonders if that’s how she feels, too.

Even as he’s struggling for air, feeling more and more like a little kid on the verge of a meltdown, Aelwyn doesn’t turn away from him.

“I wonder… would you like some hot chocolate?”

“What?”

He must have misheard her.

“Hot chocolate. Sandralynn always makes me some when I,” she gestures at Fabian like she’s been in his shoes before, “When it feels like I can’t breathe.”

“Sandralynn?” He echoes.

“Is on shift, but I know her recipe.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“The others will be done soon. I’m sure they’ll want to see you.”

Before Fabian can maneuver an answer around the lump in his throat, he watches Aelwyn reach out for him. Her grip around his wrist is firm, her hand gentle and warm. Warmer than he would’ve thought.

He’s not dreaming of a love story anymore – not when he’s not even sure what love is. It’s all tied up in grief and hate and disgust now. Aelwyn is no princess from the tower, and no villain who can find redemption in Fabian’s kiss. She’s just… Aelwyn. And he likes her. And somehow, she understands.

“Okay,” he finally gets out.

“Okay.” Her mouth curves up again into that half-smile he doesn’t entirely understand. She tugs lightly on his wrist.

“Let's go.”

And he follows.


End file.
